Fight
by BellatrixxL
Summary: Rodolphus comes home to a very upset and fragile Bellatrix.


"—HARD HEADED AND PEA-BRAINED, YOU HAVE THE IQ OF A MENTALLY CHALLENGED HOUSE ELF—" Bellatrix knew that her screaming was pointless, Rodolphus was right next to her, keeping stride with her furious gait. "USELESS, WORTHLESS…"

He grabbed her arm and begged her to stop, to talk to him, to acknowledge him. "Bellatrix, please…" She shook him off violently and pushed him away from her, running up the stairs towards their bedroom.

She stopped in the doorway and grabbed the door with one hand and wheeled around to face her bewildered husband, shoving her finger in his face accusingly.

"You have no idea the planning, the time that's gone into this, Rodolphus. Yet you just swoop in and take over as if it's yours to change. Well, it's not and you've got another thing coming if you think I'm going to sit by while you take charge." She heard herself say the words and immediately scolded herself for her naïveté.

"Bellatrix," his voice was growing more desperate by the syllable. "Please, Bellatrix, I'll stop, I won't say anything, you can do everything, just come downstai—"

She'd slammed the door in his face before he had a chance to finish the sentence. Locking it, she leaned against it and slid down to the floor, slowly pulling a folded piece of parchment from her chest, examining it as if it was something completely foreign to her. She could hear her husband on the other side of the door trying to console her.

"…you can pick the color of the curtains, darling, I don't care. You could decorate our house in Gryffindor colors, I couldn't care less…"

Rodolphus had only arrived home a few minutes before. He couldn't help but feel completely lost as to what was now happening with his wife. He walked into the dining room to see Bellatrix directing the workers around, setting up for their dinner party which was to take place the following night.

It was their turn to host the monthly meeting of the old Pureblood families. Rodolphus had offered to hire his wife some help—a party planner, an assistant, anything. She'd refused profusely, and now he could see that she was wearing thin.

He stood behind Bellatrix and wrapped his arms around her. He watched as a pair of house elves, perched precariously atop a stack of dining room chairs, struggled to straighten the Slytherin crest adorning the wall above the fireplace. It appeared to be off center and he called out, directing them to move it slightly to the right. He could feel his wife tense in his arms.

The final blow was the curtains. They didn't match the crest, and he foolishly pointed this out to a visibly stressed Bellatrix. The insults flew.

And now he stood on the other side of the door from her. He knew that there was something deeper. His wife may not have been completely level headed, but she wasn't one to fly off the handle over curtains. He kneeled in front of the door and called out to her softly.

"Bellatrix," he said cautiously. "I'm sorry, my love. The crest was fine, and you can pick the color of the curtains…"

Once the parchment was unfolded, Bellatrix managed to tune out her husband's cooing, but only for long enough to get through the first few sentences.

_My dear sister Bella,_

_I am so excited to write to you, Bella, and of course (as promised), you're the first to know! I'm pregnant! We suspect I'm about 14 weeks along, as I'm not really showing as of yet, but then again, you know how our family is- mother said she didn't show with you until nearly eight months! I would love to see you and celebrate some time before tomorrow night. I want to introduce you to your future nephew…_

Bellatrix allowed herself to read those lines only once more, though even if she'd wanted to read more, her eyes were so brimming with tears it wouldn't have been possible. Her hand moved automatically down to her own flat, empty stomach, and she had to fight back the urge to scream and sob. They'd been trying for four years now. Every night, she and her husband had each other, and every morning for four years, she'd wake up, rubbing her stomach, hoping for a bump, a cramp, a kick…

Her silent tears were coming more and more rapidly, and though he was silent now, she could feel Rodolphus on the other side of the door, hanging on every noise, every sound she might make.

She closed her hand violently around the note and burned it in the fury of her grasp. She stood and walked over to the fireplace, throwing the burning note into the hearth and watching it for a moment. She heard the lock turn in the door and the slow creaking of her husband walking into the room. There was no fighting it anymore and as soon as Rodolphus' hand was on her shoulder, her tears turned to loud, pathetic sobs.

Bellatrix turned and threw her arms around his neck, allowing herself to put her full weight on him, burying her face in his neck. She was shaking violently and her sobs were breaking his heart. He slowly kneeled and sat in place, leaning against the wall, holding his broken wife tightly and slightly rocking her.

"Bellatrix," he whispered to her, "I'm here. It's okay. It's not worth getting upset over, it's just a dinner party…" He pressed his lips against her forehead, her nose, her cheeks; anything he could get to.

She looked up at her husband with an apologetic desperation. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, trying to find the words to tell him why she was so upset. How could she find the words to tell him that she would understand if he was angry? She understood that his family would be disappointed, disgusted; in their eyes, she'd failed in the one area that she was most expected to excel in. Her mother would be absolutely livid, her father disappointed. How could she find the words to tell her husband that she couldn't give him what he needed?

After what seemed like hours to Bellatrix, she found her voice and spoke slowly and evenly to the worried man offering her more comfort and support than she deserved.

"Narcissa is pregnant," she explained. "They think she's about fourteen weeks along." She took a deep breath before continuing. "She and Lucius have been married only four months."

Rodolphus knew instantly what Bellatrix was upset about. Bellatrix, unique and precious as compared to other pureblood women as she was, was still susceptible to the belief that her purpose in life was to give him children; to give him a male child to carry on the family name. He watched her every morning as she looked in the mirror and inspected her stomach. He watched her heart sink once a month when she realized that she absolutely wasn't pregnant. Now Narcissa and Lucius had conceived a child not a month after they were married, and his beautiful, fragile, wife had broken.

Bellatrix rocked back on her heels in front of him, cradling her stomach once more and looking at him as if he'd already left her. He reached out and slowly stroked his wife's cheek as she continued.

"It's been four years, Rodolphus," she reiterated. "We've tried. We've tried so hard—every night—four years…"

He reached out for her hand with his other hand and interlaced his fingers with hers, pulling her gaze and waiting patiently to hear her out.

"I'm… I don't think I can…" He pulled her into his lap again and held her against his chest as she cried again, though this time she didn't sob.

"You don't have to say it, Bellatrix," he reassured. He then added quietly, "I assumed that was the case after the first few months." He felt her tense at his words.

She looked up at him incredulously and searched for words once more.

"You knew," she began, shaking her head, "you knew that I might be- that I couldn't— After the first couple months? But every night we tried, Rodolphus, every night. Why did you keep up if you knew nothing would come of it?"

He tried so desperately to match her somber tone, but Rodolphus couldn't help but chuckle at his wife. He wrapped his arms around her and lowered his head to kiss her. He kissed her cheeks and the tears running down them, he kissed her cheekbones, her eyelids, her forehead, her nose. He pressed his lips to hers once more before speaking again.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," he began. "Did you know that when our parents were discussing marriage, back when you were thirteen—and before you try to argue, yes, I remember exactly how old you were—our mothers got together for tea at my parents' estate. As soon as your mother left, my mother sat down with me and asked me a question that I have never regretted answering."

Bellatrix was no longer crying, though her eyes still shone with tears. She focused on her husband, watching his eyes, studying his breathing, melting at the way he unconsciously smiled every time he said her name. She was absolutely in love with this man, and she'd spent the better part of the morning afraid to lose him, and the last hour giving him every reason to leave her. She was hanging on his every word.

"She sat me down," he continued, "looked me right in the eye and said plainly, 'which of them do you want to marry.' It wasn't a question, it was a demand. It wasn't a question I had the liberty of choosing not to answer. So, I answered. I wish I could say that I sat down and made a long, thought out list of all the reasons that I thought each of you would or wouldn't make a good bride, but I didn't. Within ten seconds of my mother's question, I'd responded."

He reached up and gently brushed her hair out of her face, gazing lovingly into his wife's anxious eyes. "I knew when you were thirteen that you were the woman I was meant to be with. I knew that you were the woman who would never bore me or let me falter. I knew you were the woman who I would be proud to have at my side every day, who I would fall asleep and wake up next to with a smile on my face because I'm just that lucky.

"I didn't choose to marry you because I thought you would make the most attractive children," he laughed a bit, "or be the most domestic. I chose to marry you because I thought that if you were that perfect to me when you were thirteen, back when I still thought most girls carried diseases that could make me lose my magic, then I wanted to be the man who got to experience how perfect you would be every day of every year for the rest of our lives.

"And I haven't been disappointed yet."

Bellatrix looked up at her husband, unsure of how to respond. She slowly reached up and took hold of his face, pulling it down to hers and kissing him softly. She ran her fingers through Rodolphus' hair, traced his jaw with her fingers, ran one of her hands down his arm and around his chest. When she pulled away, she was crying again, but her smile overpowered her tears by a longshot.

"Rodolphus Lestrange," she replied softly, "I love you more than I thought it would ever be possible to love another person. I crave you more than I could ever have dreamed that I would want another human being. I need you so much that it hurts not to be around you. I am so madly in love with you, that I thought that it wasn't possible to feel anything more for you than I already do."

She smiled again and continued, laughing quietly. "Leave it to you to prove me wrong."

Rodolphus smiled back at her and pulled her close again, practically clinging to her, and rested his lips on her forehead. He held her until he could feel her heart rate slowing and her breathing become deeper. He stood carefully and carried his wife to their bed. As he lay her down, she spoke quietly, not bothering to open her eyes.

"Rod?"

He couldn't help but smile. She hadn't called him that since they were fourth years.

"Yes, my Bella?"

"You were right about the curtains."

Rodolphus smiled again, but didn't bother answering, as he could hear her falling asleep in her last words. He walked across the room and looked back at her on the bed before closing the door and whispering once more.

"I love you."

He went downstairs to finish directing the set up the dining room so his wife could get the rest she needed.

(Author's note: Yeah, I got bored. It happens quite often.)


End file.
